How Skydiving Changed My Life

I hit 50 alone and depressed. My life was not what I expected or wanted. There were some big issues, and I realized I needed to step outside my comfort zone. As someone who always wanted a foot on the ground and needed to know where the next foot went, I thought a skydive might shake up my world. And it certainly did! more »

“What on Earth—or in the sky—was I doing?” I asked, staring at RwandAir’s confirmation email for my flight to the Kenyan coast to begin AFF. Instead of the excitement that accompanies a trip to white-sand beaches and warm waters, I felt trepidation. Fear. more »

When I look back over 60-plus years in the sport, I can see many ways in which skydiving changed my life. There was the fulfillment of a 14-year-long dream while making my first jump—a freefall “skydive” (a new word back then)—at St. Catherines in Ontario, Canada, in April 1957 at age 18. Then there was the pioneering feeling over the next few years while doing test jumps, single and multiple baton passes, night military HALO jumps, freefall para-scuba jumps and military demos with smoke.

There’s a moment that happens in skydiving where my mind calms and the only thing that exists for me is the present moment. I always have some nerves as I climb to altitude. The objects of my anxiety run the gamut from second-guessing gear checks and dive flows to unfounded fears of disappointing strangers.

I frequently said that for my 50th birthday, I wanted to make a skydive. Just before my 48th birthday, my son, who had recently achieved his A license, said, “Mom, don’t wait. You are going to love it.” A few weeks later I took my first jump and knew I was going to do more. more »

Since I was a kid, I’ve dreamt of flying. I would have dreams that were so vivid that I could feel the zero-G sensation as I flew in my sleep. As a boy, I would climb onto the roof of my house and jump off with a towel stuffed in the back of my shirt, yelling, “Superrrrrmaaaannnnn!” Thankfully, I never broke any bones, because the secret would have been out, and my parents would have killed me once they learned of my dangerous hobby! No matter how much I tried to hide it, though, all the early warning signs were there that I was an aviation addict. more »

I first learned of skydiving in 1961 at the age of 6. The television show “Ripcord,” about two guys who provided almost entirely fictitious parachuting services, aired that year. My older brother and I didn’t mind the implausible events, because we didn’t watch for the stories. We wanted to see the show’s stars in freefall, and those scenes were all real, taken with helmet cameras and from airplanes.

Until I grew to a size that made it consistently painful, I jumped off things. We lived on the water in Hampton, Virginia. The seawall stood four to six feet over beach sand, so that was a good spot. In the woods, we could leap from trees into nets formed of vines 10 or 20 feet below. That was risky, and there were times when I fell through to the ground, but I was never injured. We’d leap from the tops of the channel markers in the Chesapeake Bay, too. That venue allowed us to compound the fun, because another compulsion some of us had was to reach the bottom of every body of water we swam in, even when it was impossibly deep. more »

“It’ll change your life!” How often do we hear skydivers say this while trying to describe the indescribable experience to potential flyers? I often find myself looking out the door of the airplane, nodding at the beauty of the sky in a private moment that you all unknowingly share with me, then get back to focusing on the skydive and the incredible moments that the next few minutes hold. more »

How did skydiving change my life, in 700 words or fewer? I could more easily succeed at the task if I were to go with, “How did skydiving not change my life?” There wouldn’t be much to say on that subject. As for explaining how it turned my entire world upside down and gave birth to a brand-new me, I’ll give it a shot.

My skydiving journey began, as has so many others’, when I was given a tandem jump for my (we don’t need specifics!) birthday. I ventured out to Taylorville, Illinois, one Sunday for the jump and had the time of my life. By Wednesday, I booked my first-jump course. I began AFF training that very weekend. more »